


Fantasticallidismulia

by dreamingfifi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cliche, F/M, Fantasy, Parody, The One - Freeform, the chosen one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 08:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingfifi/pseuds/dreamingfifi
Summary: The fate of the magical land, Fantasticallidismulia, depends on one young man, his beautiful love interest, his really big sword, his annoying sidekick, and most of all, his mentor.





	1. The Memo

An old man sat at a cluttered desk, reading a fantasy novel. This one was good: interesting plot, well-developed characters, unique plot devices; it didn't rip off Tolkien's version of Elves; and the power of magic was kept steady, not being too weak to save a character's life one moment then being so powerful it could save the universe the next.

He set the book down, lovingly marking the page he had just finished. Work had to be done. He picked up the memo someone had thrown onto his desk when he was in the middle of chapter five, and read.

* * *

 

TO: CLICHÉ CLEAN-UP CREWS

FROM: DREAMINGFIFI

DATE: 01/15/06

SUBJECT: EMERGENCY!

LOGIC MEMO

A cliché break-in took place in the Fantasy Sector 911.

_Subject for extermination:_ Oreh Cigart (tragic hero spelled backwards)

_Charges made against him:_ Sucking the life, logic, and plot from a story

_Risk:_ Character is aware of LOGIC spies. He will try to use the CCC in his evil plans.

Request emergency clean up.

LOGIC

Attachment

ok

* * *

 

"Another day, another dollar," he mumbled, picking up his brief case and putting on his hat. "Alright, I'm ready." He held the memo before him. The word **LOGIC** flashed red, and the old man disappeared. The memo drifted to the floor, tracing a crazy figure eight in the air.


	2. Oreh Cigart

**WELCOME TO FANTASY SECTOR 911. GOOD LUCK CREW!**

Oreh Cigart thought he was an ordinary, every-day, super handsome guy with muscles to beat Arnold Schwarzenegger's, incredible hair, magical powers, dark and broody leave-me-alone attitude, a Twagic Past (Alas the poor fellow: his mother refused to give him Double Chocolate Super-Frosted Chocolate Marble Cereal before she died. The cruelty!), and really cool fight scenes. That was, until a messenger arrived bearing a message. Oreh, called Ory by his many friends and drinking buddies, flexed his muscles, and was allowed to read the message first. The message was in a beautiful, early medieval script – no spaces between words and no punctuation at all.

Of course, no one can read that stuff any longer so, below it was the same message in modern script. It read:

* * *

Ai! An enemy is come! The enemy is a dark and evil lord who lives in a dark and evil tower with a dark and evil name! It bears this odd, undecipherable symbol: CIGOL. Any person knowing its meaning should tell the Great Council right away. The Great Council of (the following were hastily crossed out: ~~Fantastica~~ , ~~Fantasia~~ , ~~Fantastique~~ ) Fantasticallidismulia hath decided that a lone, courageous warrior should conquer this dark and evil tower and bring back this dark and evil lord's head back on a silver platter! This warrior must have a random series of… er… characteristics that will make him destined to be this warrior!

must have a little itty-bitty brown spot on his ear.  
must have a zigzagged scar on his forhea… wait, that's been taken already.  
must be an orphan.  
must have a Twagic Past.  
must be a young adult.  
must have a wart on his left foot. (Council Member Patsy wanted it to be a zit on his right hand, but my idea won the vote. Na-na-na-na-boo-boo!)

Sincerely,  
The Great Council of Fantasticallidismulia

* * *

As Ory finished reading, he had an epiphany. He was that destined warrior! Holding the message to his chest, he cried, "Alas! 'tis me that must go and sacrifice myself…"

"Knock it off!" yelled the reader, several hours into the speech. The poor reader's cries were in vain, for Ory couldn't hear them. He was in the story, and the reader was not.

Finally, after Ory pulled out the flow charts and diagrams that proved only he could be The One, and everyone had conveniently gotten themselves killed by their evil but vague enemy, sans the town drunk who drank socially until he passed out, thus appearing already dead. The plot whimpered and threw Ory into the next chapter.


	3. The Looploopy Men

**LOADING CHAPTER 2…**

Oreh Cigart had everything he could possibly need to begin his journey, which had been found in the letter from the Great Council of Fantasticallidismulia: a riddle to figure out, which supposedly would lead him to everything he needed, except water and food. The reader hoped secretly that they were trying to kill the annoying little bugger off.

Luck didn't seem to follow the reader very well, but it certainly liked to run after Ory. Ory was walking down a bright forest path, whistling a cheery tune, when some robbers attacked him. (These robbers weren't the brightest of people to be attacking an Arnold Schwarzenegger clone who was carrying nothing but a little scrap of paper.) Attack him they did, and easily defeated they were by Ory's awesome stunt team. They even led him to their secret hideout, fulfilling the first part of the riddle:

When waltzing through a leafy den,  
Watch out for the Loop-loopy Men,  
For with these stupids you will find:  
A willing slave of your own kind.

"Thank-goodness you found me!" a wretched voice cried from the bushes. "I was going to be eaten for supper, or worse!"

Ory ran to the voice, determined to be as heroic and dashing as possible. He found something that he had needed very much, though it had been unethical to ask for one. A funny looking sidekick! "What's your name?" he asked, showing off his jaw muscles.

"I didn't even know that there are muscles there!" exclaimed the new sidekick. "My name is Petilitilpirson Minor, Pet for short, and I have a skin disease that makes me look kind of like a monkey, so you'll never have to worry about me stealing any of your action scenes, and I'm good at comic relief as well! I hope you don't mind if I walk using my knuckles… some hero's don't like it. Said it took up valuable space that could be describing their cleft chins instead."

"Well, do you know of any other side-kicks in the area?"

"Nope."

"Oh well, you'll have to do. Shall we begin?"

"Sure! I'd love to go!"

"No, you're not coming Pet," Ory said, striding off. "I work alone, remember?"

"I'm going to stick with you as annoyingly as possible," shouted Pet as he loped behind Ory. The two newfound friends wandered off into the wild, searching for the dark and evil tower with a dark and evil name and had a dark and evil lord dwelling inside.


	4. Sage Mentor and Belle Maide

**LOADING CHAPTER 3…**

"Are you still following me?"

"Yes of course," replied Pet, plodding beside him.

"No, I meant behind me," Ory said stopping in his tracks. "There's someone following us!" he whispered urgently and heroically dragged Pet off the trail into some bushes, making the reader's eyebrows arch.

"Oh no you don't, you little whippersnapper!" croaked an old man waving his cane as he trotted up the path. "You can't loose me that easily!"

"Who are you?" asked Ory standing up.

"I'm the character you forgot to bring along, you lousy hero. Have you ever heard of a hero without a mentor figure? I'm Sageriatric Mentor, called 'Sage' for short…"

"Hey, aren't you the town drunk?"

"Hell of a disguise, ain't it? Well, you are the next great hero whose magic will outshine mine some day. You've been wasting time, my son. Didn't you hear the wretched cries of a beautiful maiden in distress? Go get her, you pathetic…"

Ory was running before Sage Mentor could squeeze in another insult.

"Help! Kidnap! Treason! RAPE!" the female character sobbed.

Ory appeared and cut off her guards' heads before they could blink their cycloptic eyes. She looked at the dead monsters on the ground, then at the bloody sword that Ory held. "I hate you because you are against my straw-feminist ideal," she said, sticking out her chin and looking down her nose too get a good look at Ory, now that her spunk had been established. "Oh, you're handsome! To hell with all that strong women talk! I love you! As it so happens, I was about to be forced into a marriage by my evil parents that never will let me go to the Mall whenever I want and forced me to clean my room! Woe is me!"

"Wow," Ory said, his eyes wandering all over his fine catch. Indeed, they left his sockets to go for a stroll. This is to prevent a paragraph devoted to describing this luscious female specimen in every annoying little detail… down to the wart on her left foot. "You have a wart on your left foot?"

"Yes," she sighed. "And the towns people would tease me terribly for it." The Lúthien carbon copy flipped her hair and dramatically sniffled; her perfect bosom heaved in time to her cries.

"We were meant to be together! I too have a wart on my left foot! What is your name, oh beautiful love interest of mine?"

"Bellebalistics Maide, called Belle for short."

"So, my love, tell me about your traumatic childhood. You do have one, don't you?"

"It was horrible! The other kids used to run around me chanting:

'Ding, dong the Maide is gone!  
She's gone to sweep the Belle!  
If e'er she return,  
let's make her cheeks burn,  
and sing this silly song!'"

"That is so traumatic, how did you ever live?" said Ory, completely out of character by this point. A squirrel dropped an acorn on his head, perhaps hoping that it would knock him into or out of sense. Which ever it was didn't matter; anything was better than this shell of a character. Pity the poor squirrel and the reader, for the squirrel's plan didn't work.

"Oh no! You've been injured! Lie down; I must tend to you!" gasped Belle.

They spent the entire night there, and the reader is supposed to believe that they did nothing but tend to our hero's "injuries." But then again, they might have done nothing at all because, you know, the story is PG13.


	5. The Really Big Sword

**LOADING CHAPTER 4…**

When Ory and Belle returned to camp the following morning, their loyal companions didn't question them about their night together. They didn't even mention the yards of cloth wrapped around Ory's head. Instead, Sage Mentor dramatically pulled a humongous sword from his cloak.

"This may be a scene directly plagiarized from the Return of the King movie, but who cares!" Sage said. "I give to you this magical sword which belonged to your predecessor. It has magical properties that only you, my son, can use."

"Wow, thanks dude!" He pulled from its scabbard and swung it, endangering low flying dragons.

"Who's the babe?" asked Pet, being comic relief.

"Hi, I'm Bellebalistics Maide, but Ory can call me Belle because he's _speshul_ and he has a big sword."

"Alright Belbal… blebla…statistics?" said Sage Mentor.

Pet interrupted Sage to correct him. "It's Belly-ball's ticks."

"Eww!" yelled Belle. "How dare you mutilate my name so! My name is Bellebalistics- belle for beauty, ballistics for being one helluva a bombshell of beautiful Maiden! Never forget my name you idiots!"

"Alright, Bell-ball-sticks!"

"I understand you perfectly, Blah-blah-bricks."

Oreh scowled. "I thought you were good at comic relief," he mumbled. "I must apologize for their behavior, my jaw-droppingly gorgeous lady!"

Amidst this merriment, a hidden watcher was watching because that's what a watcher does. The watcher watched very carefully, and gave a signal when Sage sat down on the ground to laugh. Suddenly poison darts came from everywhere and conveniently killed all of the annoying sidekicks. Ory ran to Sage's side as he lay dying.

"Go on… without… me."

"Oh no, but I couldn't! We've known each other for such a short time!"

"Go get 'em tiger." With that, Sageriatric Mentor collapsed.

Dramatically wiping a tear away, then a few more for his companions, Oreh Cigart set off for the dark and evil tower. These assailants weren't much smarter than the robbers, and left direct tracts to their hideout.

As Oreh came around a turn in the path, he saw a dark and evil tower right in front of him. This was it! He ran through the doors (luckily they weren't locked) and found himself in a huge dark room. The doors slammed shut on the command of dramatic tension. Now the only light in the room was coming from a stain glass window somewhere near the roof. The thin shafts of light made a design that could be clearly be understood now, though not by Oreh, try as he might. The symbol of the enemy was not **CIGOL** but **LOGIC**.

Oreh brandished his mighty sword, dramatically waiting for the dark and evil lord to come forth.

"Glad to see you could make it," said the dark and evil lord. "I'm not very proud of you. Any halfway logical character would have realized my identity immediately and committed suicide then and there."

"What do you mean? Are you my father?"

"No, thankfully." The dark and evil lord stepped into the light, and lifted his hood.

"Sage Mentor? I thought you died!"

"You should have realized from the start that I was a **LOGIC** Agent. No character should ever get away with insulting you in your little world. You tried to sidestep logic so much that you sidestepped your own, therefore falling victim to mine."

"NO0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0!" Ory wailed as logic started to leak into his thinking. "You lie!" Ory posed with his incredibly long sword and flexed his muscles.

"Truly? Let us see." Sage pulled out a rapier.

"Ha! Your sword is smaller than mine!"

"Ah, but it's how you use it that counts."

Clichés exchanged, Ory charged, roaring passionately, but Sage sidestepped the clumsy weapon and easily dealt a crushing blow to the unarmored protagonist. The stain glass window shattered, and the land of Fantasticallidismulia became the fresh canvas for another author who would hopefully be more successful when painting it.

**MISSION COMPLETE. RETURNING AGENTS TO REAL WORLD…**

LOGIC flashed blue, and the old man appeared on top of the memo. He took off his hat and set down his briefcase. The intercom sparked to life and a dreary, sleep deprived voice announced the beginning of the coffee break and that coworker Carolyn had brought home baked brownies and brightly colored dunce hats to celebrate her birthday. The old man looked at the novel on his desk and picked it up. "My love, you wouldn't believe where I was," he whispered as he buried his nose in its pages.


End file.
